The Slap That Ended Everything

was still technically in place. Not for long.

“The transfer will hit before dessert if the bank closes on schedule,” Jean told me over speakerphone while I was getting my hair done.

“You make that sound festive.”

“It’s the most fun I’ve had all week.”

I wore black.

Not mourning-black. Sharp black. Silk that fit clean through the waist and didn’t need fussing.continue reading …